The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 21:31:09 -

The banquet hall of Thorne Manor smelled of decay and expensive wine. Elias Thorne stood at the head of the long oak table, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the wood. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of rotting apples that clung to the drapes and the silverware. On the table, however, the fruit remained unnaturally fresh, their skins gleaming with a wet, impossible vitality....

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